MacDaddy goes all soft in the centre

Rua's done a few silly things in his career but this week he's been the measure of any captain in the game. I saw him on Maori TV last night giving an interview (in Maori) whilst signing all sorts of shit for the fans. I once punched some fat English cunt in the head for trying to conduct a conversation with me whilst I was trying to spit out some horrible French to a station attendant in Paris; yet here was Rua, concentrating hard to get his Maori spot-on whilst wee fellas scuttled about, jumping in front of him and demanding autographs. Not only that, he's been self-deprecating and reticent about Harbour's checkered past. Rua - Nga mihi mo to manaakitanga, ka pai to mahi, tino pai rawa atu koe. (That should give a few of our core demographic the opportunity for a 25-minute anti-Treaty rant.) Stop kicking the ball now.

The thing that's made me most proud of our team - more even than the Shield itself - has been their approachability and their genuine appreciation of what this means to the fans. Too often these days, the image of the pro-sportsman is of some jumped-up rich fuck who'd RussianRoulette his own grandma for a career leg-up, only to turn around and bitch about the trials of his difficult life in the spotlight. The guys have gone beyond the perfunctory courtesy that their contracts no doubt demand of them: they've been cheerful, sincere, humble, and totally accommodating of old fuckers like us who tend to live our lives vicariously through their efforts. They've lapped up the adulation and they've enjoyed themselves in a way reminiscent of the old days when footie was more about the grass-roots than the corporates. The management and older members of the team probably have a better idea of what the Shield means to Harbour, but I've been blown away by guys like Vili, George Pisi, Rudi, Doug Fletcher and James Rodley who could be forgiven for not seeing this in context, and by Tony Woodcock and Jonah who've competed at the highest level in the game and don't need this as much as the other guys. Or me. Good work, too, Allan Pollock and Milan Yelavich. These guys have taken a back seat whilst the lads have had their moment, but the forwards' resolve in the past few weeks has provided the platform. Our scrum might be creaky but our defensive mauls and man-on-man defence has stepped up. Such things are testament to coaches.

It'd be nice to tell the lads that, next week and next season, the 5000-odd who turned up to the parade will be joined at the stadium by another 5000 who couldn't get the day off work...but it'd be a monstrous pile of fibs. Safe, white middle-class Shore-folk like parades and balloons and wacky team mascots, but they're more likely to go to their baches at Papamoa on the weekend to talk about coastal property prices being dragged down by the 'lifestyles' of the locals. Instead, let's just say that we'll be there, as we always are, giving due credit and fair abuse - only this time, we'll have our cut-out cardboard shields and be dining out with a juicy platter of mock-arrogance instead of soggy chips. A million thanks, guys. And Good luck in Waikato. We'll fucking need it.